Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 30329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 152(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 152(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
Is this my chance to explore my own desires and pull myself out of a financial hole at the very same time? Will I ever get another string-free chance like this?
“I’m in.”
Chapter Two
Dean
My wife, Polly, dangles a set of keys in front of me.
I sigh, sliding my hands into the pockets of my khakis.
Our kids are back at the hotel with the nanny. Polly asked me to bring her for a walk on the beach, but we’ve stopped in front of this modern, ocean-front property, complete with infinity pool and wall-to-wall windows. Now, she’s handing me keys with an odd look on her face. A cat-who-caught-the-canary type of look.
Jesus. I wouldn’t be surprised if she bought this place without asking. Wouldn’t be the first time. Wasn’t it just last year we became the owners of an Italian villa?
“What is this?” I drawl. “You like California enough to buy a vacation home here?”
“No,” she responds in an extra-sweet tone. “Not exactly.”
“Why are you being mysterious?”
Before she has a chance to answer me, I see them. Polly’s best friend, Molly, and her asshole husband, Cameron. AKA my ex-best friend.
“What the fuck are they doing here?” I snap.
“They’re on vacation with us, Dean.”
“I didn’t agree to that.”
“No, you didn’t, did you?” Polly sighs, turning her head to exchange an eyeroll with redheaded Molly. “He’s already being difficult.”
“Not for long!” sings Molly.
But I’ve stopped listening to the women chatter. I’m too busy keeping an eye on Cameron, that motherfucker. Shifty little punk. I’ve tried my hardest to put this hatred of my ex-best friend to bed, but every damn thing about him pisses me off. And I’m ashamed to say that every time I look at Cameron, I see him through her eyes.
Her. Ruby Lang.
Did she like him more than me?
If given the chance, if we’d taken our mutual obsession with the tutor further, who would she have chosen? I hate how much it plagues me. It’s wrong. This fire I still have in my belly for the bookish blonde makes me a horrible husband and father.
It’s not a secret that Polly and I married for convenience. Money. Pedigree.
Molly and Cameron did the same. These are not grand love affairs.
They are respectable matches.
Still, I’m not a philanderer. I don’t have a roving eye. I’m a good man.
But to this day, I get uncontrollably hard when I think about Ruby Lang. I spank it to her memory more often than I’m comfortable admitting, considering I never even laid a finger on her. Neither did Cameron. She was the utmost professional, reminding us we were in relationships whenever things got…tense.
There was no hiding her refreshing nature, though. Her innocence.
Her angelic beauty.
Cameron is looking at me with a scowl on his face—and I can tell he’s thinking about her, too. He thinks about Ruby as often as I do, and that never fails to enrage me.
Especially after what he did.
“Are you two paying attention?” Molly snaps, waving a hand in front of our faces. “We just told you, this is where you’ll be living for the next few days.”
“Together,” sings Polly. “We’ll be at the hotel getting pampered, instead of trying to enjoy ourselves in the midst of your ridiculous feud.”
Cameron speaks for the first time. “I’m not staying here with him.”
“Yes, you are, honey,” Molly says. “And trust me, you’ll do it happily.”
“Have you both lost your minds?” I demand to know, ready to chuck the keys into the Pacific. “I’m done here.”
Polly catches my elbow before I can storm off. “But you haven’t heard the best part. You’ll have a houseguest. Someone you might remember from senior year.” My wife cups a hand around her mouth, raising her voice to call, “Come on out, Ruby!”
Every muscle in my body tenses.
This must be some kind of joke.
No fucking way this is happening.
But it is.
Out walks Ruby Lang, exactly as I remember her. Long blonde hair, a simple blue headband. A short, white dress with a collar. High socks. Wringing her hands the way she always used to do when we fought over where she’d sit in the library. Beside me or beside Cameron.
My cock expands, stiffening to the point of near eruption, testing the fly of my khakis. I untuck my shirt as quickly as possible to hide the obscene reaction, but my wife sees it and giggles. What the hell?
“It’s okay, Dean,” she murmurs, already checking her watch. “For the next three days, you’re free.”
“Free?” I choke out.
Molly squeezes her husband’s shoulder. “You, too, Cameron. Ruby is yours to play with for the next seventy-two hours.”
Cameron
I don’t believe what I’m hearing.
Or seeing.
This girl, who still haunts my daydreams, is standing ten yards away.
Ruby is yours to play with for the next three days.
I’m sorry, what? I’ve only been married for six years, but I’ve been married long enough to know this feels like a trick. Except, Ruby wouldn’t participate in something like that. She’s not the type. She’s more principled than any of us. Toward the end of our association back at Yale, Dean and I were both so desperate to fuck her, we were having Tiffany jewelry and half the Chanel runway delivered to her dorm.